Asmund, Sirensbane

I did another writing prompt titled “A group of Viking encounters a Siren at sea, her voice is luring the men to their doom – except one. Now it’s up to a closeted gay Viking to save the day.” and this is what I came up with.

Asmund, Sirensbane

Asmund and the others were camped near their boats. They had spent the past couple of days traveling across the strait, searching for their next target. They were vikings, and they were looking to do what vikings did best: plunder. They had heard about this village, Haldor, before, but they had never taken the time to attack it. Haldor didn’t lie immediately on the coast like most other villages they pillaged, but was removed from the beach by a few kilometers of dangerous swampy terrain, which afforded it a natural protection against attackers from the sea, like Asmund and his band. Haldor had a reputation of being a wealthy village due to the lack of frequent attackers. Haldor was also reputably completely walled in, and something worth protecting must also be worth plundering. A final rumor that circulated about Haldor was that its night watch was entirely women which bolstered Asmund’s clan’s resolve to attack it, ideally at night when the women would presumably be easier to beat than the battle hardened group of men they were with.

Gunnar, the leader of Asmund’s raiding party, barked orders for them to set up their camp. He appointed 4 of the three dozen men to stand watch over the night to ensure nothing took them by surprise. Asmund and Bjarke, one of Asmund’s closest friends, conversed with each other while eating dinner before retiring for the night, ready to head out early the next morning through the swamp which separated them and Haldor.

“EVERYBODY UP” Gunnar’s voice bellowed throughout the camp. Gunnar sprung our of bed, grabbing his sword, expecting an attack. There were no attackers though, just the confused vikings milling about, wondering why they were so suddenly woken. “I woke up early this morning, only to find that out night watch was not watching us. Where did they go?!” his rage was barely contained, with spittle flying out of his mouth with every word he yelled. The others had no idea, since they had slept through the night.

After a few minutes of trying to establish what happened to the 4 night watchers, another viking came back and addressed Gunnar. “Gunnar, it seems that 4 pairs of footprints left from the watch’s post and wandered into the swamp.”

“Wandered into the swamp?! Did they not come back out?”

“It appears not, they may have gotten lost. I looked briefly, but the tracks are hard to follow in the swamp.”

“Well we don’t have all day, we need to get to Haldor. Take a few men to investigate this while the rest of us pack up camp and start heading through this infernal swamp.” Asmund and Bjarke passed a confused look between them. Nobody had ever really deserted one of their raids, and the 4 that did disappear had been battle-hardened vikings.

Everyone packed up the camp and were marching through the swamp, filling their boots with muddy water and swatting mosquitoes. As they trudged through the muck, Bjarke struck up a conversation with Asmund. “So what do you think happened to last night’s watch?” asked Bjarke, seeming anxious to even ask.

“I am not really sure” Asmund slowly replied.

“I have heard weird stories about this swamp before. I was honestly a little afraid to come at all.”

“What sort of stories?” Asmund pressed, already suspecting what he would say.

“There have been stories of men getting swept away by creatures of the night, another one of the reasons Haldor is never attacked.”

“Yea” Asmund paused before continuing, searching for the right words. “I have heard similar things. I hoped the stories to exist only to scare off would-be attackers, but we will have to be extra vigil.”

“Let’s agree to watch each other?” Bjarke almost pleaded, hoping to find some sort of security amongst this unknown.

“Of course” Asmund smiled.

Other than mud holes, wet shoes, and swarms of mosquitoes, the rest of the day passed fairly uneventfully. They trudged through the swamp until they had gotten close to the edge of the swamp, and therefore had gotten within a short distance of Haldor. A relatively flat and dry clearing was found and a camp was set up where they would raid from. The 4 guards from the previous night were never found, so Gunnar wanted everyone to stay awake to protect against whatever caused the others to go missing before setting out on their raid.

The vikings were restless as they waited for darkness to come. A light meal and some ale was enjoyed before the impending raid, but appetites were low. As the shadows got longer and the sky grew darker, the vikings prepared to walk the last hour or so to Haldor before initiating their raid. It was then, as the twilight evolved to its darkest dusk, that a slow and entrancing voice started to flow from the swamp in the direction that they had traveled from. It started off barely audible, almost like a slight humming, but as it got louder, it started to get the attention of many of the men. The beautiful voice was soothing at first, but like a drug, the men wanted more.

“That voice… it’s so beautiful” Bjarke hungrily said, eager for more.

“But we have to leave for Haldor in a matter of minutes” objected Asmund.

“I know, but I have to find the source of this voice first, I need to hear it much closer.” Bjarke started to walk into the direction of the voice, along with the majority of the other vikings. It seemed like Asmund alone was immune to the call from the swamp. Asmund ran over to Gunnar in order to tell him that he needed to stop everyone from going into the wrong direction. Gunnar also seemed to be transfixed on the singing from the swamp. Asmund grabbed Gunnar by the arm in order to stop him and get his attention, but Gunnar just attempted to shrug off his hand before violently pushing Asmund away, desperate to continue to the source of the singing.

Asmund attempted to stop several others, but he was similarly shoved aside by the rest of his vikings, and he could do nothing more than helplessly watch as his entire group walked back into the swamp, zombily seeking out the singing. Asmund didn’t know what to do other than follow the rest, but he had enough wits about him to bring his sword.

As they got deeper into the swamp, the singing got louder, but it was joined by more voices, creating a chorus of ensnaring music. Asmund didn’t understand why he wasn’t as enthralled as the others, but he had always felt differently about certain things, and he wondered if this had anything to do with it because he knew he was a little different than most of the other men. His thoughts were cut short as he heard a short scream which was quickly muffled, followed by thrashing water. Asmund ran forward to see what had happened, only to see them. Sirens. There was 3 of them singing, leading the men to them. They were objectively pretty: tall, slender bodies almost stood on the water. They all had long, flowing blonde hair which curled at the ends. Frail arms were barely covering their perky breasts with sections of clothing as they innocently blushed with slight embarrassment. Petite faces with longing, blue eyes beckoned to the men as they sang from perfectly formed lips, but within those lips was a line of razor sharp teeth, almost like nails, ready to tear flesh apart.

Asmund had a dreading realization that the rumors of the swamp were true. Beautiful sirens with voices of angels that led men to their doom. Asmund didn’t seem to be affected by their singing due to the fact that he had never been interested in women, and instead had always been fond of men.

A fourth siren emerged from the water. Her teeth were still bared, and her razor-sheep teeth showed hints of red from the blood of his comrade that they had just lost. Asmund didn’t hesitate and moved towards her. While the siren assumed he would become her next victim, Asmund’s resolve held strong, much unlike her neck as he removed her head from her body with a swift stroke of his sword. The other sirens let out a screech that was a sharp contrast to their harmonic chorus from before which startled all of the other vikings who groggily came back to their senses.

The other men, who were still coming to their senses, weren’t any help though when the remaining 3 sirens set on Asmund, intent on killing him after recognizing that their singing didn’t affect him. Asmund was a battle hardened viking though, and he quickly dispatched the siren which was unlucky enough to be the first to reach him. The other 2 sirens hesitated, seeing that this man was going to cause them more trouble than it was worth for this night. They retreated into the murky water, leaving Asmund and the others fumbling in the darkness in the swamp.

Asmund knew which direction they came from and luckily managed to led the rest back to their camp after wandering back through the swamp for a couple hours. It was well into early morning by the time they got back to the camp and, exhausted from an entire night of walking through the swamp, almost everyone went immediately to sleep.

It wasn’t Gunnar’s angry call or a siren’s song that awoke the camp the following morning, but the thunderous drone of horses galloping into their camp. Still exhausted from the lack of sleep from the previous night, Asmund and the others offered little resistance as warriors from Haldor stormed into their camp, effectively capturing the would-be attackers and taking them prisoner.

Asmund, Bjarke, and the others were sitting in the holding pen while the Haldor’s elders spoke with Gunnar.

“What do you think is going to happen to us?” Bjarke nervously asked, his eyes continuously darting between Asmund and the door.

“I don’t know” Asmund exhaustingly replied. He was so tired, but the adrenaline of being captured by the very ones they came to pillage was too much to allow for sleep.

Silence overcame them until the door opened and one of the guards yelled for Asmund. Everyone slowly looked towards him, somehow half surprised that Asmund was specifically summoned, yet not surprised in light of last night and how he was the only one who fought against the sirens.

Asmund got up and walked towards the door. He was ushered into a room in the stone guardhouse overlooking the holding pens where he found Gunnar sitting with a man and woman across him at the table. Around the table was half a dozen guards, ready to strike Gunnar or Asmund down if they attempted to resist.

“Please, take a seat” the man at the table beckoned to the empty seat next to Gunnar while addressing Asmund. Asmund took his seat and the man continued “Gunnar, your leader, tells me that you and you alone were able to resist the call of the siren and even managed to slay some of them.”

“That is true. I heard their songs, but I wasn’t lost in it.” Asmund wasn’t sure how much to reveal, and Gunnar’s expression was too stoic to derive how to act.

“Let me introduce myself” the man continued. “My name is Egil and this is Eira” indicating the woman sitting to his side. “We are both elders in this village, this village that you planned to attack.” Asmund cast a furtive glance to Gunnar. “It’s OK, we know. It’s obvious too, you look like raiders, and we are mere farmers and shepherds, tending to our crop, ripe for the picking” Egil almost sneered as he continued “but we have some unfortunate defenses that you seemed to encounter. These sirens keep some attackers at bay, but even so, we have walls and food and have held out against all attackers. We can’t expand though due to the sirens, and our village will never become greater than it is due to the sirens luring off all of the men that are outside the walls at night.” Egil’s manner and tone shifted from his cocky behavior from before to an attitude more akin to an awed child. “The legends tell of a warrior sent from the heavens who would be immune to the siren’s call and lead our village to greatness. If what happened last night is true, then we believe you may be the one from the legends!”

Asmund didn’t know what to say. Until last night, they had been intent on ransacking this village, and now they were revering him. “And Gunnar?” He asked, not sure how else to respond as he looked at his leader.

“He is not needed, he is not part of the prophecy. We will send him away or let him reside here, whatever you wish, but you must aid us in our quest to eliminate the sirens and lead our village to greatness. If the others stay, they will have to farm, because we don’t need male warriors, they are susceptible to the sirens’ call. That is why we have women warriors; we have to lock all men in their houses and use women guards to ensure that we don’t lose anyone to the damned songs. But you have killed sirens! Your are the one!” Asmund didn’t know what to say, this was all too much too fast, but his contemplation were cut short as Egil continued “But, it is possible that you are all lying. To ensure that you truly are the one of legends, we are sending you out tonight with a small contingent of our best warrior women, along with Gunnar. If you come back victorious, then we will know you to be the one from the legends. If you die, then that’s 2 less prisoners we need to figure out what to do with.”

With that, Egil and Eira stood up and exited the room. Asmund and Gunnar were then led back to the holding pen where they regrouped with the others. They were questioned by the others on what happened, and they told them. After being fed a paltry ration, Asmund attempted to catch some sleep during the day before heading out again in the night.

Asmund was awoken by the nudge of a guard’s boot in his side. He stood up and saw that Gunnar was already standing by the door. The two were led to the armory, where they rendezvoused with 6 women adorned with armor, swords, and spears. Asmund and Gunnar were given lighter armor and no weapons in fear that they retaliate, before heading out into the night. As they approached the swamp, a heavenly song reached out to greet them. A siren was singing for the men, enticing them further into the swamp. Gunnar instantly was captivated, hungrily going deeper into the swamp, followed by Asmund and the women.

They proceeded deeper into the swamp and were met with more voices, the chorus of sirens starting up again. “As you can see,” Asmund addressed the women “Gunnar is completely infatuated, and while I do hear the singing, I am not taken over it like he is” as he pointed towards Gunnar, who was walking ever faster in order to find the source of the music.

One of the warriors just grunted and menacingly pulled out her sword. Afraid that they might attack them, Asmund prepared to flee, but instead she spoke to him for the first time that night. “Kill the siren and prove yourself to be from the legend” she simply said, handing him the sword. Asmund took the sword and turned around to see that Gunnar was no longer in sight. He took off in the direction of the singing and found Gunnar shortly before the water’s edge, only a dozen feet away from the sirens in the water.

Intent on saving Gunnar from the same fate as the others, Asmund charged ahead, followed by the women. He barreled past Gunnar and leapt into the water, bringing down his sword into the head of the nearest siren who immediately died under the blow. The other 2 sirens again let out that ear piercing screech, attacking him from either side. The siren on his left closed the distance quicker than Asmund could remove the sword from the fallen Siren and she lunged for his throat. Asmund barely got his arm up in time as the siren sunk her teeth into his forearm, causing a torrent of blood to erupt where her sharp teeth pierced his skin.

Asmund pushed her away with his arm that she was latched onto while removing his sword from the other siren. He then deftly flicked the sword to the left and impaled her. As she let go of his arm and let out a screech as she died, Asmund heard a thrashing from behind, in the direction of the remaining siren.

Asmund quickly turned around, swinging his sword and hitting nothing. The siren was already dead, impaled by 3 spears from the women. Gunnar stood up to his ankles in the muddy water, again regaining his senses after being dispelled from the entrance of the song. The other women were securing the perimeter when the one who gave Asmund his sword approached him. He moved to give the sword back to her, but she refused.

“The sword is yours to keep” she slowly pushed his outstretched arm with the sword down. “From this day on, you will be known as ‘Asmund, Sirensbane’.”

They made their way back to Haldor and Asmund was given a bed fit for a king to sleep in. The next morning he was paraded through the city as a hero. The other vikings opted to stay in the village and work in the fields while Asmund struck up a task force that went out on nightly runs to kills sirens.

Asmund’s task force eliminated many sirens, although they seemed to always be more. Regardless, the border was slowly pushed back and after many years, Haldor grew in size and prosperity since more people could safely live there with the siren’s call becoming an ever decreasing threat.

After an entire year of no deaths to sirens and in celebration of the city’s success, Asmund was named the first King of Haldor. Women were flocking to be his hand in marriage as his tales of greatness and legendary status were second to none. During his coronation feast, many women flirted with him, making all of the other men jealous. It didn’t matter much to Asmund though. While he was happy to have helped this village become the city it was today and to be its king, the women just didn’t interest him, and his eyes’ focus was on the shirtless male entertainers that paraded around in front of him, a desire which luckily afforded him an immunity to the siren’s call.

End